Interviewing a Legend
by aD1990
Summary: What if a journalist interviewed Wyatt Earp one year before his passing? The topic of the interview? Doc Holliday. In here, you'll see Doc through the eyes of his geat friend Wyatt. Hope you'll enjoy. Reviews are most welcome.


Los Angeles, California, February 23rd, 1928

Today, I am to meet the legendary lawman Wyatt Earp, mostly known for his exploits as a Marshall in Dodge City, KS and for taking part in the well-known gunfight at the OK Corral. When my editor first called and offered me to interview the man, I simply couldn't believe my luck. Me, a common journalist of Los Angeles, having the great honor to meet Wyatt Earp. I automatically accepted, of course, and got ready for this great event. Only one hour before meeting him, I still hadn't made up my mind about the topic of my questions. I had so many things to ask him...! And then, I recalled there were just so many articles about Wyatt Earp, that I wondered if I'd get the interest of my readers by re-telling his life once more. I mean, everybody knows Wyatt Earp. What is there more to say? The man has already written books himself and writers told his adventures in any aspect possible. The world had enough informations on the peace officer. And it is only when I first saw him, waiting for me at a cafe terrasse, that I knew what I really wanted to hear from him. After the formal handshake and greetings, I took a seat across him and began my questioning.

"**I would like to know more about Doc Holliday, Mr Earp,"** I said as he lit up a cigar.

"Whatcha wanna know?"

"Whatever you're willing to tell me, Sir."

"Ya know, I get many questions about the Clantons, about my brothers, about Josephine Marcus, about John Beehan, about William Brocius or Johnny Ringo, but I don't get that many questions about Doc Holliday." He smirked softly and his gaze got lost in the vague. "Doc..." he whisper slowly with a brief but tender smile. After several seconds, he looked back at me. "Doc was one of a kind. He wasn't the type of person you'd meet on the street of the West. Doc belonged to the South. That was his home, it's always been. All his life he's remained attached to his dear ole South. He had people he cared about over there and he missed them. Anyone who knew him a bit could say so. Doc was homesick."

"**What do you know about his family?"**

"Well, you know, Doc didn't talk much 'bout his folks. He was pretty reserved on that matter, but I do know that he had a sweetheart out there. Mattie was her name. He told me about her once or twice. I think I'm the only one to whom he's told anythin' 'bout Mattie."

"**What about his parents?"**

"His mother had died of consumption, the very disease that was wearin' him down. Doc didn't appreciate his father much because the latter had remarried soon after Doc's mother's death. Well, ya know, family stuff..."

"**And he contracted the tuberculosis soon after his mother's death?"**

"Yup. That's what made him move out West. To enjoy the drier climate. Hell, if he hadn't been sick, Doc would never have left the South. He was meant to be a great dentist. But as he used to say, fate had decided otherwise. And one day, when the doctors told him he had consumption, all his plans crumbled."

"**And do you think the climate of Arizona relieved his sickness?"**

"A bit, yeah. Doctors had given him something like five months to live, and he actually died fifteen years later, so..."

"**He contracted the disease pretty young, then..."**

"Yeah, he was around twenty-one. Just a kid! Once you know that, you can easily understand his devil-may-care attitude. He lived everyday as if it was his last. He had a fuckin' death sentence already. He had nothin' to lose."

"**I see. So, what about his girl, Big Nose Kate?"**

"What about her?"

"**You said his sweetheart was Mattie, back in the South. So how did he see Kate? Did he love her?"**

"He cared for her alright, but I ain't sure he was crazy 'bout her. Hell, they were almost always fightin', arguin' on anythin'. He loved her in a special way. No big love, more physical need, if ya see my point. She was there for him, whenever he wanted her. Hell, that was her job! Bein' a hooker was about everythin' Kate enjoyed. Apart from that, she saved his life once and since then he felt he owed her a debt. He was very thankful to her for it, and this incident drew them closer. Another thing was that she was there for him. She helped him throughout his sickness, especially at night where she was the only present. She was always there to reassure Doc whenever he had one of them terrible endless coughing fits. Can't say she took care of him, no. She didn't. But she did her job in makin' him life easier, sometimes. They were quite a pair." He stopped and shook his head with a smirk. "Yup, quite a pair... As far as their temper was concerned, they looked a lot like each other. Bad-tempered, both. And sometimes tender."

"**What do you think about what Bat Masterson wrote about Doc?"**

"Doc and Bat never really appreciated each other. Actually Bat somewhat loathed Doc and despised the fact that Doc was a dear friend of mine. Surely my best friend. Bat hated the fact that this "no good gambler" as he used to call Doc could be friend with a stern law man as I was. But that was the point! Doc made life easier to me too, always watchin' my back and makin' me laugh. Doc had a real sense of humor people often lack. He tried as hard as he could to find the brighter side of life. Even though he knew he was bound to die anyday. What Bat wrote is "pure nonsense", as Doc would say with his refine southern accent. That was bullshit. Story retold from the point of view of a man who hated the one whom he wrote about. If you read his article, you'll get a false idea of the person of John Henry Holliday. John was a tough guy, alright, but you gotta take into account that he had lived in Goergia during the Civil War, the very state which saw it's main city burnin'. That's pretty shocking and moving for a kid. And then his mother's passing has been real harsh on him. He was pretty much abandonned and alone in the world, back there. Good thing he had Mattie, that's my way of seein'. She kept him away from trouble for he also had that bad temper when he was a kid. Could've gone in some real bad trouble if he hadn't been watched over."

"**Did you watch over him, in Dodge or Tombstone?"**

"I believe I did, just as much as he watched over me. Ever since he saved my life back in Dodge, we became real close and were pretty much always together. Either I was searchin' for him or he was. Hell, I remember I even made up false excuses to go and find Doc just for bein' in his company. He helped me a lot, especially when Morgan died. Doc was close to him, too, and his death affected him. He's always thought he'd be the first to die among us. He's always been there for me. That's a true friend, I say..."

"**I've always wondered, as for the Vendetta Ride, did you ask Doc to come or did he come on his own?"**

"Both, I guess. With Morg's death, I formed the posse and Doc immediately joined it. I was real glad of it. His fearless heart and incredible abilities with a six-shoother would be of a great help. And they did. However, it was the posse that killed Doc. We rode on days and sometimes even nights, and Doc's coughings rarely stopped. In the background, you could always hear a cough or two, and you knew that Doc was there, followin', and that his condition was at its worse. We offered him to go back and get some rest in a town, but he always refused, sayin' he was quite alright, or some shit like that. It always made me happy when he refused to leave us, though. That might be selfish, I don't know, but his presence was deeply comfortin'. Knowin' he was there to wach my back in any situation. If I hadn't met him, I would have indirectly missed Doc. My life would have been more bitter and less valuable."

"**You hold him very dear..."**

"Damn right I do. He was like a brother to me. He was younger than Morgan, but looked way older than he, as far as the experience was concerned. Morgan looked like a kid, next to him. Life had been harsh on Doc and way more gentle on Morgan at that time. Yup, Doc was a brother to us Earps. And he died for me. He did! He died for me. The Vendetta Ride killed him, obviously. And though he was in a very poor health then, he went on for me. Have I noticed it on the moment? I don't think so. Being younger and blinded by hatred towards them cowboys, I don't think I've noticed how much Doc did everything he could for me. By ridin' with the posse, he shortened the few remainin' years of his young life, which pretty much equals to sacrifyin' his life for me."

"**What do you say to people who call him a cold-blooded killer?"**

"What is there to say to 'em? I mean, that's what he was, at times, to people he hated. He wasn't cold-blooded, he had feelings, but he could be real stern and merciless. It was seldom, though. He must've killed a bunch of people, but they pretty much all deserved it. According to Doc, at least. He had this thing with honor. Must be some southern tradition, I reckon. Whenever someone called him a cheat or insulted him, Doc reacted with his gun. That was his way. But it was also many people's way at that time. In the years 1880s, people often died over nothin'. Your life was real precious and so easy to lose in the Wild West. You had to b faster than the man standin' in front of you if you wanted to stay alive."

"**I see. Another thing: it is commonly said that after the Vendetta Ride, Doc and you parted after an argue. Is it true?"**

"It is, yeah. Doc always talked too much. Which I used to like, but at that moment, he went too far. I believe that's pretty much the only time I've felt such resentment towards him. He had said somethin' enormous about Morgan's death, if I remember correctly, and it had driven me mad. So we parted with difficulty. As far as I was concerned, I found it real hard to leave him, especially on such a note. I hated myself for hatin' him and talkin' to him the way I did, that day. I guess he found it hard too, I saw it on his face, just as he must've seen it on mine, I guess. You see, Doc and I always understood each other. And this was pretty special at that time."

"**When did you last see him?"**

He lit up another cigar and his face looked tired, as if the recollection of these deep memories were authentically moving him. "Err... Not long before his death. He was barely recognizable, all thin and slender. His coughings were never ending and he was paler than ever. His eyes deeply bloodshot and his look exhausted from all he had endured. His drinkin' and gamblin' habits had also "worked their magic" on Doc's appearance. But despite all that, he was still the charming and handsome southern boy he'd always been. And when I saw him, then, I simply knew he was truly on his way to dyin'. Kate was still with him and that was a good thing, for he needed someone to help him through his last days." He drank a cup of coffee and I spotted a tear rolling slowly down his cheek.

"**What was your reaction when you learnt about his death?"**

"What d'ya think I did? I wept. That was all I could do. I had always known it'd end up that way, but no matter how hard I had tried to get over that fact, I could not prepare myself for Doc's death. That boy was way too important in my life and when he died, everythin' just seemed gloom and bitter. I had lost two of the dearest persons in my life. Morgan and Doc were gone forever. If it weren't for Josephine, the rest of my life would have been pretty dull and sad. By livin' a long and filled life, I think I did my best to honor both Morgan and Doc who had lived but the beginnin' of a life. They weren't even forty when they passed away. That ain't no God damn age to die. Too damn young!" He slowly shook his head for several minutes, thinking about what he had said.

"**Do you miss Doc?"**

He took his time before answering and let out a heavy sigh. "I do," was all that came out of his mouth, but I felt in his gaze that Wyatt Earp had much more in mind. However, sometimes, words simply cannot define or explain the way you feel about someone or something. I believe that, at that moment, Mr Earp's memories of his dearest friend Doc Holliday flew by in his mind and no words were able to describe the turmoil and melancholy they bore.


End file.
